so, my heart is overflowing.
funny how that works out.
maybe it’s the wine or the vicodin or the sushi or the hottub or the lunchmeat/feta cheese sandwiches or any number of my suddenly-not-preggers indulgences, but here are some initial insights, for the record:
so, by all counts, pretty much every couple on the planet has had a miscarriage. i have heard from so many men and woman who have been brave/kind/caring enough to share their stories with me. and i just feel incredibly blessed. one by one, we are breaking this curse of shame/silence over the BIG MC!
when i wrestled with the idea of coming out on the non-secret blog, i found myself wanting to make sure i emphasized over and over that it was a fluke, and that there was nothing i could do and that my body was responding in a perfectly normal and healthy way. the baby was unhealthy. it was not me.
i realized at some point since then that i was doing this because carrying a baby is, like, the ultimate feminine test. there was a huge part of me that was afraid that i would be perceived as less of a woman because my body somehow defected in its most basic womanly task: growing a baby for 40 weeks.
this fear is compounded by the fact that lots of women in the bible struggle with fertility. and god normally “rewards” the faithful with a healthy baby in the end. losing a baby is like a huge womanly dis of biblical proportions.
now, reproductive science knows better, but i think because of the resulting cultural stigma, (and a general sense of propriety that i am clearly lacking) couples — women in particular — do not generally go about trumpeting their losses with their peers or their community or, god forbid, the internet. as a result, there are no real or formal ways of grieving or mourning or acknowledging the loss in a newspaper or a ceremony or what have you. and we miss out on so much support as a result. so i’m calling it: the whole “don’t tell anyone so if you miscarry they will never know you were pregnant” thing has GOT to stop. it’s officially passe.
if you learn anything from me, i’d hope that it’s this: TAKE A MINUTE AND TALK ABOUT THIS IN FRONT OF EVERYONE.
i know i’m being pushy and trying to force my methods of coping on everyone else, but man, since i opened up my veins and let the blood flow, the stories have poured in from all corners of the globe. i am so obviously not alone.
and hearing those stories, and feeling that near-instant bond, and feeling that strength in numbers — and then having loads of women tell me that my stupid blog post help them heal or deal or just feel a little less burdened by some long-buried memory has just been this huge, emotional, awesome, healing … thing. for me. and if i would have shut up, i would have shut out these conversations.
pregnancy blogs and message boards are helping to cultivate an environment of sharing.
in fact, i have signed up on one of those, and i swear to god, this is my signature on every post:
glitter letters. “angel babies.” icons in memorial of our dead baby. and i have never felt so supported. these seemingly silly things are so incredibly healing to me right now, and these perfect strangers are becoming close friends.
but imagine if we could take this sort of grief mainstream. i bet the options would be way cooler than glitter letters. although … in midst of a giant hormonal crash, i really prefer them.
and the men, too. they have hearts and compassion and real PATERNAL instincts that confirm, to me at least, that they probably are really awesome dads, or that they will be when their time comes.
what i meant to say is that i am ready to start my own lifetime television series.
and to everyone who took 5 or 10 or 25 minutes to send me a note, to share a story, to write me a card or a letter. to everyone who drove home at midnight after playing with my hair for 2 hours, to everyone who baked or sent flowers or left texts or messages:
Hi. YOU MADE ALL THE DIFFERENCE IN THE WORLD
for taking the risk. for reaching out. you are the reason that i am healing. you are the reason that i believe god is working. jesus is using you, whether you’ve given him permission or not. we love you. suckers!
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